


i'm not the fire in your chest, i'm just the words under your breath

by the_hero_she_deserves



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Complicated Relationships, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Despair, Dystopia, F/F, Falling In Love, Falling in Love at the End of the World, Gay, Handcuffs, Healthy Relationships, Hope, Implied/Referenced Sex, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Love, Lust, Made For Each Other, Mental Instability, Metaphors, Mild S&M, Mistakes, No Dialogue, Not Canon Compliant, POV Fukawa Toko, Partnership, Post-Canon, Relationship(s), Romance, Seduction, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Towa City (Dangan Ronpa), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hero_she_deserves/pseuds/the_hero_she_deserves
Summary: "What I saw after that was... fireworks. Fireworks heralding me... as a savior.""Yeah... a savior. Fireworks... blessing me. It's all thanks to me. Everything...""...is all my fault."-Komaru Naegi, Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls
Relationships: Fukawa Touko & Naegi Komaru, Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru
Kudos: 18





	i'm not the fire in your chest, i'm just the words under your breath

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a song I listened to on Tik Tok. It's called "Love Is A Weapon" - by: @foreveraletdown.  
> The title is a lyric from the song. Thank you for the inspiration Tik Tok musician, I give full credit to you for the title of this piece. 
> 
> There are references - also - to another fic I've written about Toko and Komaru. The two aren't explicitly connected at all, so it isn't necessary to read the other before you read this one.  
> However, if you are interested, you are more than welcome to. 
> 
> The work that is referenced in part in this one is: the things i could never say (it should be listed in my works). 
> 
> This is written in a different style than my usual, so I hope you can appreciate that as well. Rated Mature because of the mentioned/implied sexual things contained within the fic as well as the metaphor of drugs/alcoholism being used to speak to the vice which grips both Komaru and Toko.
> 
> Fukawa Toko POV. *salutes*.

Another piece of myself goes with the shifting of the sheets. 

What we're doing gives a whole new meaning to sleeping with the enemy. I don't know why I do this to myself, except that maybe it's some sick dependency I can't seem to shake. I guess I understand now why alcoholics exist. Along with their insatiable cravings, there's a hope the high will never end. 

And it's perhaps that hope that I am high on. 

My voice has reached heights and volumes it has never before. It's all her fault too. But, she doesn't seem to have any remorse for it. Figures.

It's embarrassing is what I would think if I _could_ think right now. But, I can't. Subversion is one of the more subtle forms of seduction, and she does it well. She's managed to subvert - subdue - my mind. And it's difficult to disarm my mental defenses, but she makes it appear seamless. The way she looks at me, touches me, should be considered a weapon. 

It's clearly dangerous enough to be. 

And perhaps it's being caught up in that danger that holds me prisoner every time. Her moans would make a servant of anyone. 

The way her voice isn't so shrill anymore; the way that she gets me to break a sweat; the way that this is all so real, it leaves nothing to my imagination. I really only have wonders, whims and fantasies with Master. But, they are nothing compared to reality anymore. 

I wouldn't dare hurt her, so _she_ won't hurt her either. That doesn't mean she doesn't take extra precautions whenever our trysts happen, however. And the slim, silver metal that snaps shut around my wrists of-a-precaution is certainly welcome. The way she's rough and gentle all the same; the way she's light and dark. 

The way she's both hope and despair is more intoxicating than any vice. 

* * *

The room has a stench when we're done. It's sweet and smells vaguely of flowers and some part like an ocean. A weird conglomerate that shouldn't be attractive, but it sifting in the air makes useless my faculties of thought again. It's mind-numbingly arousing, despite my fatigue. 

Any sense I had has been drained out of me - a vat of the stuff just oozing between my legs at a dilatory pace. And she taunts me - the temptress. 

She knows I'm compromised at the moment, but forming the words on my mouth to tell her I'm spent is a battle I cannot win. I can't even bring myself to fight it - the useless lot that I am right now. 

She licks from her lips this whitish-clear substance that sits along her bottom one in small, thick globules. They are placed few and far between along, but one swoop of that strong, pink beast in her maw makes little work of that. 

It's all so maddening... 

...Maddening in the way that I'm _going mad_ just having to watch her. It isn't as if I can look away either. I don't have a choice; I'm forced to stare on like this some kind of voyeur kink that I never would have pegged her to. Not that it's hard to look at her, though. It's a task that even **I** can't screw up. 

Her eyes could pierce right through me, the way they've become - ossified like that. Soft could only describe the color now, a green that puts grassy meadows on the edge of paradise to shame - I have always said. 

Is this what it would have been like if _he_ had fallen to despair? 

No. 

If we'd all lost Junko's game, I wouldn't be here right now - in the recovering Towa City, rehabilitating from the psychosis that was Monaca Towa. Recovering Ruins is what it should be called, with the smells of smoke, ash and fire a constant, that is. It's so strong, you'd think you just walked into an incense shop. 

Her last kiss drags on my lips and leaves a residual sensation there even after it ends. The way my heart pounds in my chest in anticipation of more whenever she nears my face; the way she's undone my shackles whilst distracting me with a kiss. 

It's the way she commands each moment with me, despite being my junior - despite once being my partner.... equal. It's the way she's risen from a normal, unreliable girl-without-a-clue who can't do anything to this... 

Authoritarian mistress of the night that has me perpetually aching for more. She leaves me to my withdrawal, though. I am completely flooded out - exhausted. She knows what she's doing too. After all, it's no fun to play if your opponent can't keep up, right? 

She rolls over, unfulfilled - least of all her passions. 

And I wonder if she does that on purpose: Saves it away like that for another day, making these trysts more intimate and addictive each time. Or perhaps it is the feeling like she will never be fulfilled again - and doesn't deserve to be - is why she does it. The sick dependency she has - her alcoholism - is despair. 

Perhaps it is the way she is trying to coalesce her disparate parts by laying with me that's made her so obsessive. 

It's the way these sheets have become a therapy for the reconciling war inside her between hope and despair. It's the way she can lose herself as she regains another fraction simultaneously. It's the way she feels both empty and full as we shift around with only our heat and friction in view. 

Another piece of her comes along with the rustling of the linens, shifting once more. The moment cools, as she turns over. 

What we've done is give an entirely new meaning to sleeping with the enemy. If you could even call us that. We don't know why we do this to ourselves, except that maybe it's some ill-adjusted manner we can't seem to shake. I guess I understand now why people say things like: "All's fair in love and war." Along with the interminable sensation of hanging in the air with only eggshells below to break your fall, it's all ineffable and sublime. 

There's a hope the high will never end. 

And perhaps it's that - at the bottom of it all - that she's high on. That she falls prisoner to each time. She uses her love like a (hacking) gun and her aim is deadly. 

Love was truly the weapon that broke the controller all that time ago. A strong love for humankind and the need to do what was right, even with a lack in required knowledge is what drove her. That same strong love is caused her to despair, and to brandish her weapon at me. Under her breath, I have become more whole. Some part of me secretly wished for this. 

It made Komaru into pieces that repudiate their own in the name of that hope and despair.

Hope and Despair, yes....

...The very things that delivered her here. 


End file.
